My Knight In A Dalton Uniform
by Belladonna98
Summary: Okay, so Blaine is actually the farthest thing from a knight. A knight is supposed to be chivalrous and brave... and Blaine is just an idiot. An idiot who is going out with Rachel freaking Berry. Ugh. (A rewrite of my story with the same title. Takes place during/after Season 2's Blame It On the Alcohol.)
1. Somebody That I Used to Know

**Title:** _My Knight In A Dalton Uniform_

**Pairing:** Klaine, Brittana, mentions of Anderberry, mentions of Finchel

**Genre:** Drama/Romance/Humor

**Official Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee as I am not Ryan Murphy. I'm sorry...? I feel like I should say I'm sorry for some reason.

**A/N:** Okay, so after I reread my first version of this story, I kind of hated it, so I've decided to do a massive rewrite/edit! If you were a fan of the old version, no need to fret! The important plot points won't change, I'm just going to make it sound and look a lot better. And for all you new readers—welcome! Don't read the other version, it's pretty crappy. Thanks, and enjoy the show! Er, I mean, story…

_**IMPORTANT:**_ **Bold** is still Kurt, he's just narrating from some point later on, and the _italicized_ is when he's thinking in that moment. Just so you don't get confused!

* * *

_**Chapter One… Somebody That I Used to Know**_

**So it all started with one simple little sentence.**

"Well, _I_ officially have nothing to do tomorrow. Mercedes just canceled on me, and I would rather _die_ than hang out with Rachel alone. I mean, she'd just start ranting about the latest solo that Mr. Schue gave her and her awful attempts to get Finn back…" I groaned, thinking of how she'd complained about Quinn nonstop the past few days. Then I turned to Blaine with a perky, hopeful smile, setting my phone back on the table. "So. Do _you_ want to do something?"

**Actually, that was more than one sentence, but… you know what I meant! One **_**paragraph,**_** whatever.**

Blaine gave me that smile that made me feel like I was going to throw up butterflies, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at his coffee.

"Well, I would love to, but I… sort of have a date," he said embarrassedly, and then he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that told me he was uncomfortable.

I gasped in mock shock, even though an immediate pang of jealousy coursed through me.

"My, my, my, Blaine Anderson! You have a date? How scandalous," I said teasingly, and I cocked an eyebrow, taking a sip from my cup of coffee.

We were sitting inside the Coffee Bean for our usual after-school, going-to-get-coffee-before-Warbler's-practice afternoon date (well, not really a _date,_ but you know.) We'd been sitting there in silence until I'd mentioned the thing about Mercedes and Rachel.

_God,_ how I wish I hadn't said anything.

Blaine nodded. "Yes, so _very_ scandalous," he agreed with a roll of the eyes. "No, but actually, the date is with Rachel. We're meeting at that place Breadstix later this evening."

I narrowed my eyes, positive that he had either misspoken or I had misheard.

"Uh, excuse me—but did you just say Rachel? As in _Rachel Berry?_ As in my annoying friend from glee club? As in the one who has been madly in love with Finn Hudson since the beginning of last year?" I said.

Blaine smiled a little, giving me an odd look.

"Yes, _that_ Rachel." He didn't seem to understand that I was genuinely upset by this. "Last night, she started messaging me on Facebook, and we both agreed that we, uh… we felt something the other night. At her party, when we kissed. It was… nice."

I looked at him with complete disbelief, my mouth curled into a half-frown, half-sneer.

"It was 'nice?' Blaine, she's a _girl,"_ I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world—because it _was!_ "And she's Rachel freaking Berry!"

"What's wrong with that?" Blaine asked so innocently that I had a hard time believing that he actually didn't know what I was talking about.

I leaned forward a little and placed my hand on top of his, looking at him with condescension. "Blaine, sweetie, that means she's probably just using you to get Finn back. Besides, you… like boys anyway. Right?"

Blaine sighed and pulled his hand away from mine, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes. I mean, I don't know. These past few days, things have just felt really confusing, you know? Like… like maybe I'm bisexual," he said. "Or maybe I _am_ gay, just not when I'm with Rachel."

I snorted at that, almost choking on my coffee.

"Jesus, Blaine, are you really being serious right now?" I asked, coughing and cackling at the same time. "She's Rachel! _Rachel!"_

"So?" he snapped, and I immediately stopped laughing. Blaine hardly ever talked like that, even when he was _really_ pissed off.

I shrugged and said, "I just…"

He didn't let me finish, though.

"You know, Kurt, you aren't being very supportive. All you keep saying is, 'She's Rachel! She's Rachel Berry!' As if that's a reason _not_ to give this a try? You sound like you're in denial, like I should feel bad about these feelings I have," Blaine said, and his grip on his coffee cup tightened as he glared at me.

"Oh, _I'm_ in denial? Take a look at yourself!" I scoffed.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Please, like _you've_ never been confused before? Didn't you once tell me you and Brittany made out? On the couch in your _bedroom?"_ he accused.

"That was different!" I answered heatedly. By that point, some other people around the coffee shop had started to look at us with curiosity and confusion, but I couldn't really bring myself to care, not when I was so frustrated. "I did that because I wanted my dad's attention, because I wanted to be the person I thought he wanted me to be! I wasn't doing it because I suddenly thought I was straight!" I shout.

Blaine leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice to an angry hiss. "Look, Kurt. I think it's great that you know who you are. That's what I admired most about you when we first met, that you weren't willing to change who you were even when you were being bullied mercilessly by that Karofsky guy. But you know what? _I'm_ still searching for my answer, and Rachel could possibly be that answer. So I'm going on this date, and really, I could care less what you think. Because if you were a real friend, you'd support me," Blaine said, and then he sat back again, taking a triumphant sip of coffee.

I spluttered for a moment, trying to think of something clever to say in return. Blaine raised a smug eyebrow.

And that _really_ pissed me off. So I said, "Fine. Go on your date. Enjoy a night of breadsticks, Broadway songs, and stories about her and Finn's numerous, slobbery make-out sessions," I spat. "But when it goes horribly, horribly awry, don't come crying to me, all right? Because I don't want to hear it."

Blaine ran his tongue along his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes into a glare again. And damn, if he didn't look sexy like that. His mouth sneering at me, his eyes darkened with anger, his curls freshly mussed…

_Stop it, Kurt. This is definitely not the time._

I cleared my throat, looking back down at my coffee cup. Blaine laughed a little, mockingly.

"You know what? Whatever. Maybe I should just go," he said, and then he gulped down the rest of his medium drip, stood up, and threw the cup away, walking toward the front doors.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, grabbing my own cup and quickly following after him.

"Wait. Blaine, wait!" I called out, because he was already half-way to his car outside. I shoved open the front door, the bell above it jingling happily, and ran to catch up with him. "Blaine! Where are you going, you're my ride!" I exclaimed.

Blaine finally turned back to look at me. "I thought we were friends, Kurt. I thought you'd support me when I told you this. But I guess not. I guess these past few months have been a waste," and he started walking to his car again.

I rolled my eyes, even though that stung.

"Oh, _please,_ Blaine, would you stop being a drama queen for one minute?" I snapped. "Just because I don't approve of your choice of partner, doesn't mean we're not still friends. I mean… you're free to date whoever you want, I just…" I trailed away, not one-hundred percent positive as to where I was headed with that.

Blaine looked back at me, his expression one of exhaustion. "You just what, Kurt?"

We both stared at each other for a minute.

"I just… think that you have so many _other_ great options that aren't Rachel. Ones that are boys. Ones who… really, actually like you. That's all."

_Oh yeah, Kurt, and while you're telling him who all his great options are, why don't you just throw in a little declaration of love, ask him to marry you, and have him be the father of all your little Hummel-Anderson babies! Huh? That'll be the cherry on top of this super fun, _fantastic_ afternoon! Jesus Christ…_

Blaine gave me a look of confusion. "Uh, and who exactly are these supposed 'other options?' Have they been throwing themselves at my feet this whole time? Are they here right now?" he mocks, and he looks around at the ground beneath him, as if searching for all these alleged guys.

_Jackass._

"No. That's not what I meant," I responded coolly. "I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't turn right back to girls when you don't get any from guys. Look a little harder, broaden your vision."

He glared at me. "Yeah, because I just 'switched' back to girls. This is _real,_ Kurt, and I want to see if it could lead to anything. I _owe_ it to myself to find out."

"You owe it to yourself to be who you _are,"_ I corrected. "You're gay. You like guys, Blaine, and there's no changing that."

He shook his head, then folded his arms across his chest. "Kurt, could you please remind me again why you left McKinley in the first place?"

I looked at him for a moment. "I… You know why I left. I was being bullied."

Blaine nodded. "Uh-huh. That guy hated you for being who you are. _Kind of_ like what you're doing to me right now."

My eyes widened in shock. He… _what_ did he just say?

I let out a shaky breath and took a step forward, glaring at him with all I had. At the moment, I couldn't even bring myself to care that our faces were inches away from each other, or that he hadn't even moved back a fraction of an inch. All I could focus on was how _furious_ I was.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to him," I growled. "I am not a bully, I am not Dave Karofsky—I'm simply telling you who you _are._ Because I'm your friend, because I _know._ You're gay, Blaine. And just because you liked making out with the annoying face of evil, doesn't mean you're confused."

Blaine's jaw tightened as we glared each other down.

"We've only known each other for a few months, Kurt. You're not an expert on who I am or what I feel," he said.

I narrowed my eyes, my expression turning to hurt. "So… what, now we don't even _know_ each other? A few months is a long time, Blaine. I know enough."

Blaine stared at me for a moment, then took a step back. He pulled out his car keys.

"Whatever. Maybe it's not about having known each other before. Maybe it's that I don't want to know you _now,"_ and with that, he got inside his car, turning the keys in the ignition and backing out of the parking spot.

I stared after him in shock, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"You know what?!" I screamed before I could stop myself. "Have a fun date with your _hag!"_

Blaine rolled down his window and shouted, "Have a nice walk back to Dalton!" in retaliation. And then he just drove away, out of the parking lot and down the street. Out of sight.

My whole body trembled with the anger that was boiling beneath my skin.

"Damn it!" I yelled. Then I growled and practically hurled my coffee cup into the trashcan near the entrance of the Coffee Bean, storming back inside to grab my book bag.

And when I stepped back outside, I was forced to start walking along the road that led back to Dalton. I _would_ have just called one of the girls to come give me a ride, or maybe even my dad, but they were busy with glee club and work, respectively.

I let out a huff of frustration, clenching my hands into fists.

_Goddamn Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** So, is it better than before? Worse? Leave a review and let me know! Thanks for reading!


	2. The Sing-Off

**A/N:** I really like doing this rewrite, so please let me know what you guys think! Also, I don't own the songs "So What" by P!nk and "Can't Be Tamed" by Miley Cyrus.

* * *

_**Chapter Two… The Sing-Off**_

So yeah, it started raining while I was on my way to Dalton. That happened. That is an actual thing that happened to me.

And then my book bag tore open, dumping all of my stuff out onto the muddy ground. Of-freaking-course.

_First, Blaine has to hate me, and then the world. Yeah, that's just _so_ goddamn great._

I picked up my soaking wet books and school supplies, bundling them inside my jacket.

That's when I heard someone honk their car horn from beside me, though, and I turned to see a black car parked on the side of road—and a sheepish-looking Blaine staring back at me.

"Hey there," he said, a bit strained. "Need a lift?"

I looked at him for a moment, then scoffed and turned away, walking further down the street. I know I was in no position to turn him down, but I still had my pride.

Blaine's car followed after me. "Kurt, please. I feel horrible about the way I left back there. I shouldn't have left you to walk, especially in such bad weather; you'll catch a cold, or something," he said. "Besides, the Warblers are going to be pretty upset if you show up late to another practice. Please, just get in the car with me."

He gave me a half-smile, but it was pretty clear he was still upset with me.

Whatever. The feeling was mutual.

"Maybe you should have considered that before you left me behind," I remarked.

Blaine glanced at the road ahead of him, then back at me. "Kurt. Would you just get in the car? I feel like I'm going to crash if I keep driving like this."

I glared at him. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not comfortable accepting rides from people I don't _know,"_ I said pointedly.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "God, seriously? I _really_ don't want to do this right now, Kurt. Please, let me give you a ride to Dalton for Warblers practice, and then… we can both have some time to think. All right?"

There was a moment of silence, and then finally, I stopped. Blaine's car came to a halt a second later.

"I am _not_ going with you just so you can ease your guilty conscience," I said, hiking my books and supplies further up into my jacket. "You left me behind to walk—so now, I'm walking."

Blaine let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I can't believe I used to admire how stubborn you are. It makes you impossible to reason with," he said with a shake of his head. "Look. I'm not about to give you an apology for being angry, because I definitely have a right to feel this way; but I _can't_ leave you on the side of the road, Kurt. You were right, we're still friends, and friends don't do that to each other."

I rolled my eyes. "If you can't apologize for the things you said, then no, I'm not going with you. Because it's not that you left me behind—it's that you compared me to… to _him._ You compared me to Karofsky, and he's the asshole that _drove_ me out of McKinley in the first place. It's that you compared me to him, and then chose Rachel Berry over me. And yeah, maybe from your point of view, I'm being completely irrational about this, because it was just a stupid little comment, and sometimes, Rachel isn't all that bad. But this is my opinion, and if you can't respect it… then no. I'm not going with you."

There was a long moment of silence. Blaine looked down at his lap with guilt.

"I… You're right, I regretted saying that stuff about Karofsky the moment it came out of my mouth. But I don't see why this has to be a matter of choosing Rachel over you because all I asked for was your support. I am incredibly conflicted right now, and all you did was make me feel bad about myself, like there's something wrong with me for wanting to try something with Rachel. If I _know_ that there could be something between us, then… I'm sorry, but I have to try it. Even if she's a girl."

'Even if she's a girl'—insinuating that if she were a boy, he'd still have to try it because… he _saw_ something between them. Something that I thought he and _I_ could have together.

The anger comes back tenfold, and I storm up to the car, steam practically flying out of my ears.

"You- you're- I- _ugh!"_ I stammer out furiously, and a few of my books slip out the bottom of my jacket as I shake a finger at him, causing a loud _thud_ against the concrete. "You are such an oblivious _ass,_ Blaine Anderson! I didn't mean to make you feel bad for going out with Rachel, but now, I'm sure as hell glad I did! Maybe you'll finally realize what an _idiot_ you've been!"

We stared at each other for the longest moment. I could see the confusion and irritation clouding his features, but he didn't say anything in response. Instead, his shoulders tensed up and his grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were white. And I knew what was coming next mere seconds before it happened.

The tires squealed in protest as Blaine slammed down on the gas, and suddenly, the car lurched and sped away from me for the second time that day.

I swallowed and carefully began picking up my books again.

"Goddamn baby…"

* * *

"Hey, hey, hey! Everyone, _please_ calm down, this is still Warblers practice!"

"Oh my god, all I said was we should wear the navy blue shoelaces instead of the black ones."

"Shut up, Jeff, that was a terrible idea anyway."

I narrowed my eyes. The whole room sounded like it was in chaos due to Jeff's seemingly harmless suggestion, and I was surprised that not even Wes and his gavel could get the Warblers' attention back.

I let out a sigh and shoved open the double doors, stepping inside the room. I was right, everyone was yelling and fighting—at least, before I walked in. Then they were all just staring at me and my soaked appearance.

David cleared his throat. "Um… Kurt? Is that you?"

I walked down the small wooden steps, pulling up a chair next to Trent. Blaine, seated on the couch across, carefully avoided my gaze.

"Yes, yes, it is. Sorry I'm late for practice, but I had to walk. In the rain," I said, throwing a pointed glare in Blaine's direction.

A moment of silence.

"Well, are you okay?" Wes asked.

I shot them my bitch-face smile. "Yes, of course. But, uh," and I stood up, walking toward the Council table, my hands clasped together. "I'd like to request a song to sing. You know, if that's okay with you guys."

The three Council members exchanged glances, then Wes nodded at me.

"All right. What is it? I'm sure we have the backup vocals somewhere in our repertoire," he said.

I wrote it down for them, and after a moment, they nodded. Then they started in with the background vocals.

"_Na na na na na na na. Na na na na na na. __I guess I just lost my best friend, I don't know where he went. So I'm gonna drink my money, I'm not gonna pay his rent."_

Blaine's eyes widened at my song selection. I shot him my bitch-face smile, just as the rest of the Warblers joined in.

"_I got a brand new attitude, and I'm gonna wear it tonight. I wanna get in trouble, I wanna start a fight… So, so what?_ _I'm still a rock star_, _I got my rock moves_, a_nd I don't need you._ _And guess what?_ _I'm having more fun!_ _And now that we're done_, _I'm gonna show you tonight!"_

I strutted around the room until I reached where Blaine was sitting. I stood behind him and placed my leg up on the arm rest of the couch he was sitting on. I leaned my weight against it, singing directly at him.

"_You weren't there, you never were. You want it all, but that's not fair. I gave you life, I gave my all, you weren't there, you let me fall."_

Everyone except Blaine was getting into it now, and they were all singing backup. I started dancing around, high-fiving the guys who were all standing up and shimmying near the ones who were still sitting. They were all swaying and dancing along with me.

All except Blaine.

"_No no, no no, I don't want you tonight. You weren't there. I'm gonna show you tonight. I'm alright, I'm just fine, and you're a tool. So, so what? I am a rock star, I got my rock moves, and I don't want you tonight._

_Ba da da da da da."_

The Warblers all stared at me for a moment, and then they all started clapping.

"Wow. Kurt, that was… that was pretty great," Wes admitted, a smile pulling at his lips.

The others cheered their agreement.

"Thank you," I said, then I looked over at Blaine, my look one of arrogance.

Blaine had one leg crossed over the other and his arms folded across his chest, his lips tightly pursed. I laughed a little and stepped in front of him.

"So, how'd you like it, Mr. Berry?" I asked mockingly.

Blaine didn't answer, though. Instead, he stood up and walked toward the Council table.

"Fellow Warblers, I have _also_ prepared a song for today. It's not as widely known as that one is, but I was hoping we could consider it for our Regionals set list. It might give us an edge over our competitors if we throw in some advanced footwork."

"Huh, that's interesting. By all means, go ahead," Wes said.

I sat down in Blaine's newly opened spot on the couch as he turned away from everyone. We all fell silent as Blaine gave the signal, and David started off the beat.

"_For those who don't know me, I can get a bit crazy. Have to get my way, yep, twenty-four hours a day, 'cause I'm hot like that."_

My eyes widened at his song selection. Miley Cyrus? What the hell?

"_Every guy, everywhere just gives me mad attention, like I'm under inspection. I always get a ten, 'cause I'm built like that."_

It didn't take long to realize he was just singing this to mess with me. But the funny thing was, his voice sounded really good with the song. If he wasn't being such a dumbass, I might've supported the idea to throw some Miley into our set list.

"_I go through guys like money flyin' out the hands. They try to change me, but they realize they can't. And every tomorrow is a day I never plan. If you're gonna be my man understand… I can't be tamed, I can't be tamed, I can't be blamed. I can't, can't, I can't, can't be tamed. I can't be changed, I can't be tamed. I can't be, can't, I can't be tamed."_

Unsurprisingly, the Warblers seemed to enjoy his number more than mine. They were all up and dancing, like with all their impromptu songs, and David was even doing some of his flips. Then Blaine started weaving his way through the boys until he got to the back of the couch I was sitting on, and he jumped up, placing a hand on his hip and smirking down at me.

"_Well, I'm not a trick you play, I'm wired a different way. I'm not a mistake, I'm not a fake, it's set in my DNA. Don't change me, don't change me. Don't change me, don't change me. I cannot be tamed._

… _I can't be changed, I can't be tamed. I can't be, can't, I can't be tamed."_

He pumped his fist in the air and jumped back down, pulling his uniform jacket off and tossing it at me.

**Asshole.**

The Warblers erupted into applause.

"Damn, Blaine! You really just prepared that?" David asked, patting him on the back.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Thank you, thanks, everyone," he said, giving Trent a fist bump.

I glared at the shorter Warbler and, as soon as he sat down on the arm of the couch, threw him his jacket.

"Really? Miley Cyrus? Doesn't really suit you, does it, Blaine," I said, looking him up and down.

Blaine glared down at me, just as Wes banged the gavel and dismissed everyone for the day. He started pulling his jacket back on.

I got to my feet because I really needed to get my school books from the main office (I'd left them there to dry off once I'd finally gotten to school), but just as I started walking away, there was a hand on my arm. I looked back to see Blaine smiling at me.

"I just wanted to say," he said, biting his lip. "That I _definitely_ won that sing-off."

My expression turned into a scowl, and Blaine walked out of the practice room with a triumphant smirk on his stupid jerk-face.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh goodness, the sing-off. Such a weird chapter because it's basically just them being jerks and singing their problems away. Lol, anyway, I hope you enjoyed! The third chapter will be up soon!


	3. The Inevitable Sleepover

**A/N:** I don't own the movie Chicago or any of the songs within it.

* * *

_**Chapter Three… The Inevitable Sleepover**_

The next day, I was on my way to English when Mercedes called me.

"Mercedes, I am so, _so_ sorry about this, but… well, I'm gonna have to cancel on you. I can't hang out at Breadstix tonight," I said.

I was completely weighed down, with my schoolbooks clutched in one arm and my pencils and pens in the other, and my phone was shoved between my shoulder and ear; so when she screeched, "Oh _hell_ to the no, boy. This is the _third_ time you've canceled on me this week!" it nearly split my eardrum in the process.

"Oh god," I mumbled, almost dropping my books. "I'm really sorry, Mercedes. I promise, we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

Mercedes scoffed. "I'm surprised you think you'll have the time. I mean, you must be pretty busy if you can't even find time to visit your best friend," and I could practically _see_ her folding her arms across her chest haughtily.

I let out a sigh. "I told you I was sorry," I said with a shrug.

She was silent for a moment. Then I heard some rustling, and I knew she must have gestured for Tina and Mike to head to class without her.

"Kurt," she deadpanned. "I get it if Dalton is hankering you down with lots of homework and that's why you've been so busy lately… but I'm starting to get the sense that that's not what's going on. So what is it?"

I stopped in my tracks.

"I just… I'm…" I shook my head. "You know what? It's nothing, really."

"Kurt," she warned, but I wasn't about to let her lecture me.

"Mercedes, I promise you, it's nothing. And how about this—come over to my house tomorrow night, and… we'll have a sleepover," I said. "It'll be just like old times. You can even bring the rest of the girls if you'd like."

There was a minute of silence, and I could tell she was caught between bugging me about whatever I was upset about and accepting the invitation. Finally, she let out an annoyed huff.

"Fine. Sleepover it is, then," she said. "But the moment I get there, I want answers. All right? None of this 'it's nothing' crap."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, okay. I have to get to class now, so we'll text later."

"Okay. I'll go talk to Tina. Heart you, Boo."

"I heart you, too, 'Cedes," I answered.

Then I hung up before she could try and wheedle anything else out of me.

And of course, my books chose that very moment to slip out of my hands. I pursed my lips in frustration and bent over to pick them up.

"Damn it. Damn it all to hell," I muttered furiously. "I hate you, Blaine. You are the worst person to ever exist, if only because you're the reason my book bag ripped."

"Yeah, um… sorry about that," a voice said from above me.

**Who do you **_**think**_** it was?**

I looked up to see Blaine standing next to me, his look sheepish as he buried his hands in his pockets.

"Oh. Blaine. I thought we weren't on speaking terms," I said coolly.

He crouched down to help me pick up my books, and even though I really didn't want it, I figured I wasn't in any position to be refusing his help.

"We're still friends, Kurt. We just both needed some time to think," he shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow. "And I'm guessing you've thought about it?"

He handed me my calculus textbook, and we both got back to our feet. He nodded.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this whole fight. But I do know that I miss you," he said, and he gave me a little half-smile.

My heart stuttered in my chest for a moment. Except then I remembered what an ass he'd been yesterday—everything he said to me, leaving me behind at the Coffee Bean, that stupid 'sing-off.'

I gave him a look.

"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before acting like an asshole."

And with that, I pushed past him and down the hallway, leaving him all alone in the school hallway.

* * *

_**The Next Day**_

"Oh, hey there, Kurt! The usual, I suppose?"

I looked up from my cell phone, straight at the nice counter girl who was almost always working. I swear, with her long black curls and curvy hips, this girl could be a model, but she liked her job at the Coffee Bean. I gave her a smile.

"Hi, Scarlett. Yeah, I'll take a Grande nonfat mocha," I said.

She nodded and wrote it down on the cup, a strange look on her face.

"So… where's Blaine?" she asked. "It's just, usually you two are here together."

I raised an eyebrow. "Were you not there for what happened? Our huge fight, about two days ago?" I asked with a humorless chuckle.

"Oh, that was you guys? I was in the back, and suddenly, I heard all this commotion and yelling about someone named Rachel," she said with a shake of her head.

I rolled my eyes. "Yay, I'm _so_ glad we made that big a disruption in public."

She laughed and went to get the order, coming back a minute later with my mocha. I pulled out my wallet and started grabbing the money when she held up a hand.

"You know what? Don't bother. This one's on me," she said. "To be completely honest… that Blaine seemed a little too preppy for you anyway.

I flashed her my biggest, brightest smile. "Thanks, Scarlett. That means a lot."

She nodded, and I put my wallet away, taking my coffee and going to sit at my and Blaine's usual table. I'd gotten out of school early that day, since it was a Friday, so I had some time to kill before Warblers practice.

I took a drink as I looked at the empty seat across from me. I hated to say it, but I actually kind of missed Blaine, too. He was right, we _were_ still friends—I mean, I wasn't going to be one of those drama queens who declares my friend to be my enemy every single time we get into a fight. But… I just _really_ didn't like him at the moment.

I sighed in frustration. God, I hated fighting with friends.

"Hello, Scarlett. Could I have the usual for me and a latte for Rachel here?"

I snapped my head up to see Blaine standing at the counter with Rachel, arm-in-arm. My eyes widened.

_Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. What do I do?_

Scarlett gave him a strained smile, glancing over to where I was sitting. Blaine took out his wallet and handed her his card.

_Oh my god, just get out of here, you idiot! Now is not the time for a confrontation!_

I got to my feet and mouthed to Scarlett from behind them. _"Stall them!"_

She gave me a slight nod and looked back at Blaine.

"So, Blaine, what are your plans for the afternoon?" she asked, leaning over the counter and giving him a flirtatious smile. Of course, she knew he was gay, but at least this would hold his attention for a minute or two.

Blaine gave her a look. "Well, um, Rachel and I are having a coffee date right now, and then I've got Warblers practice. After that… nothing much."

I took my chance and grabbed my cup, hurrying out the door. Then I glanced back to make sure they hadn't seen me. Scarlett was still chatting away, keeping both of them distracted—I would have to remember to tip her extra the next time I came to the coffee shop.

I sighed and took my keys out of my pocket (_still don't have a bag, Blaine, damn you_), and got into the car. Then I leaned my head against the back of the seat and squeezed my eyes shut. That was too close. I mean, I knew I couldn't avoid Blaine for the rest of our days, but I'd been doing a pretty fine job of it since yesterday's run-in in the Dalton hallway. I just needed time to myself for a while, _without_ having to see Blaine and Rachel together.

I let out another sigh and started up the car, pulling out of the parking lot. I guess I'd be early to today's Warblers practice.

* * *

_**Later That Evening**_

"Kurt, your friends are here!" Carole cried from upstairs.

I checked the alarm clock—eight on the dot—and shut the textbook I was studying, hurrying up the old basement stairs.

"Okay. Thanks, Carole," I said, and she walked back into the living room.

Mercedes and the rest of the New Directions girls (minus Santana and Brittany, _plus_ Rachel, goddammit) were standing inside the entryway, and they all started clapping and cheering and squealing upon seeing me.

"He's alive!" Tina exclaimed.

"Oh my god, praise Jesus!" Mercedes mocked, throwing her hands in the air. "After being surrounded by all those posh, skinny white boys all day, he has still come back to us in one piece!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep laughing. It's _so_ hilarious," I said, and I pulled Mercedes into a hug. "How are you?"

Mercedes immediately pulled away, shooting me a look.

"How am I? Boo, how are _you?_ I've been worried sick over you these past few days, and you haven't been talking to me."

I shrugged. "It's nothing-"

"_Hell_ to the no, Kurt. Remember what I said? You are not allowed to pull that with me anymore. Now, come on," she said, and she grabbed my shoulder, dragging me toward the basement. "Get the ice cream!" she called to Tina, and she hurried off into the kitchen to get it.

We walked down the stairs, and then Mercedes shoved me down on the air mattress I'd set up for tonight. Rachel let out a sigh and moved to the side, setting her purse next to my bed.

"Come on, Kurt. Spill it," Mercedes demanded.

Usually, I wouldn't still be hesitating because Mercedes is just _not_ a patient person, but Rachel was here. And I _really_ didn't want to talk about this in front of her.

"I… well, Blaine and I sort of…" I trailed away, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Tina stumbled down the stairs with her bag, a carton of ice cream, and five spoons.

"Did you guys kiss?" she called out, which earned a glare from Rachel.

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, no, no, nothing like that. We just had a fight, jeez."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "About what?" she asked.

Rachel finally stepped forward.

"About me. Kurt doesn't think Blaine should be going out with me," she responded coolly, and the girls all looked over at her.

"Um… isn't Blaine _gay?"_ Quinn asked, sitting down in one of my chairs. "Like, with a capital G?"

Tina handed me the ice cream, and I immediately began shoveling it down. If I had to have a confrontation with Rachel, didn't mean I wasn't going to enjoy part of it.

"I don't know, Quinn," Rachel said disdainfully. "But he _chose_ to ask me out, so what does it matter?"

"Berry, don't even _try_ to pull that, _you_ are the one who asked _him_ out. I know because I specifically remember you bragging about it in Glee club the next day," Mercedes interjected.

Tina sat down next to me, setting the other spoons off the side and taking a bite of ice cream. That's what I always liked most about her. Tina Cohen-Chang absolutely hated drama and was happy to just sit back and watch the other Glee kids destroy their friendships—a lot like me, except this time, I was caught in the middle of it all.

"Well, _he's_ the one who said yes," Rachel stated, placing her hands on her hips.

It was silent for a few seconds. Then Quinn scoffed.

"God, you are still just stuck in middle school, aren't you, Rachel? Lying, cheating, and stealing other people's men—like usual," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, _please,_ Quinn! I did not 'steal' Finn from you, he chose to be with me! And what are you even complaining about, you have him back now!" she yelled. Quinn didn't seem to have any response to that, so Rachel gave her a decisive nod. "That's right. Don't lecture me on stealing men, Quinn Fabray. Because if _any_ of us is a lying, cheating _slut,_ we all know it's you."

The room went completely still after that, and the silence that followed was almost unbearable.

Then Quinn leapt to her feet, hissed, "You shouldn't have said that, you horrible little midget," and stormed toward Rachel.

Rachel let out a squeal and shrunk in on herself, ready to block Quinn's attack. But luckily, Mercedes got in between them before anyone could get hurt.

"Hey!" she shouted, holding Quinn back. "Stop it, _both of you!_ This night was supposed to be about making Kurt feel better, and just five minutes in, you guys manage to make it about _you?_ Can't we have one night where we're all friends?"

"Also, calling her a 'slut' just makes it okay for boys to call her that," Tina added. "Glee girls should be better than that. Especially our supposed leader."

Rachel spluttered for a moment.

"I-I know. And I'm sorry, Quinn, I didn't really mean that. It just feels like you guys are always ganging up on me, and I don't want—"

"We're always ganging up on you because you only ever think of yourself!" Quinn shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "We aren't the New Directions, we're the Rachel Berry show! Mr. Schue practically _lives_ to keep you satisfied so that you don't threaten to leave the group, because yeah, you're talented and a good singer—but I am just so sick of everything revolving around you! You want us to start treating you like an actual friend? Try coming to the realization that you're a psycho control freak who can't _stand_ seeing someone else happier than you are! Just _try_ that."

Then she flipped Rachel off and stomped back over to her chair, throwing herself into it.

There was a long silence. Then Tina stood up and walked over to the TV, putting a disc into the DVD player. When the main title came up, I realized it was Chicago.

"Everyone, sit down," she commanded, and slowly, Mercedes and Rachel joined me on the air mattress. "Let's stop fighting and just watch this movie, okay?"

We all looked at each other, and finally, I gave Tina a nod. She smiled and pressed play, and the movie started up.

* * *

The five of us actually managed to have a good time while watching Chicago. We sang a horrible rendition of the "Cell Block Tango" when that scene came up, and we all kept singing, _"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle!"_ whenever a character talked about their problems. It was fun.

After that, Tina put on another movie. But just as the opening titles started rolling, Mercedes suggested we play a game of Truth or Dare—or rather, a game of Truth or _Truth._ Every time someone was asked, they would automatically choose truth since we really had no good material for a dare.

"So, Kurt, truth or dare?" Tina asked, while Mercedes sat behind her braiding her hair.

"Uh," and because I felt like mixing it up a bit, "dare, I guess."

"Oh," she said, clearly not expecting this. She put a hand to her chin thoughtfully.

Mercedes smiled deviously and leaned in toward Tina, whispering something in her ear.

Tina burst into giggles and said, "Okay. The next time you see him, you have to walk up to Blaine, run your hands through his hair, and then just walk away like nothing happened."

Even Rachel burst out laughing at that.

"Oh my god, I hate you guys," I said with a roll of my eyes. Then I asked Quinn Truth or Dare.

"Truth," she answered, filing her nails with her pocket nail file.

I thought about it for a moment, but Mercedes beat me to the punch.

"If Finn ever wanted to be in a threesome with you and another girl, would you do it?" she asked.

Tina almost choked on her soda from laughing so hard, and Rachel shook her head like we should have been ashamed of ourselves. Quinn had absolutely no shame, though, so she just shrugged.

"I don't know. Am I allowed to pick the girl, or is it going to be, like, Rachel or something?" she asked, and Rachel glared at her.

Mercedes started putting Tina's braid into a bun. "I guess you can pick the girl. Why, you have someone in mind?" she teased.

"Oh my god, who is it?" I asked, munching down on the popcorn I'd made earlier. "Do we know her?"

Quinn smirked. "I'm not fake-kissing and telling. But you all definitely know her."

After ten minutes of poking and prodding, we finally discovered she was talking about Scarlett Johansson, which was a little disappointing—I was hoping she had been talking about someone we actually knew (_that_ would certainly be interesting). And we kept going on like that for a few more hours, when finally, around two in the morning, the four girls decided they were too tired to continue playing.

I set up all the blankets and pillows on the air mattress, and Mercedes and Tina settled down there. Quinn took the arm chair while Rachel slept on the couch, and I headed to my own bed.

I let out a sigh.

_Well, at least this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be._

* * *

**A/N:** Quinn telling Rachel off is my favorite, lol. I just wanted someone to finally acknowledge that Rachel gets everything she wants, especially since this is taking place back in Season 2. Also, in the old version, Rachel seemed more like a whiny brat only there to provide conflict for the story, so I hope I'm doing a better job of conveying her this time around—for example, she still sees herself as being in the right and calls Quinn a slut because she is feeling personally attacked by her (and she wants to throw a personal attack right back at her), but she's a person, you know? I think all she wants is people's acceptance because she feels like an outsider with the Glee girls.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! More singing in the next chapter!


	4. Hell Hath No Fury

**A/N:** I don't own the song "Gives You Hell" by The All-American Rejects.

* * *

_**Chapter Four… Hell Hath No Fury**_

"Mmm… I'm cold…" Tina moaned from somewhere on the air mattress.

"What the hell? Why am I on the ground?" I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

I was, like, ten feet away from my bed, my blankets tangled up in the mess that was me.

Quinn sat up on the arm chair, tilting her head up to look at me. "I'm pretty sure you did that yourself. I woke up in the middle of the night and you had rolled out of bed. It was…" she trailed away upon really looking at me, though, and then she burst out laughing, as did the rest of the girls.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mercedes pointed a finger at me. "Your _hair."_

My eyes widened. Oh my god, I had totally forgotten about my moisturizing-and-hair routine last night!

"Oh my god," I said, and I leapt to my feet, twisting out of my blankets and over to my mirror.

Yup. I was a complete mess. My face was shiny (and not in the good way), and my hair looked like Blaine's on a _really_ bad day. Granted, I only ever saw his hair with gel in it, so even on the bad days, it had to be better than what he normally looked like.

I let out a frustrated groan as the girls continued to giggle.

"Shut up," I snapped as I headed into the bathroom to shower.

It was a bit easier to style once I got out, but it still didn't look as good as it normally did. I let out a sigh and walked back into the basement, where Rachel and Quinn were already dressed.

"I hate you," I said as I passed Quinn to sit on the air mattress. "You always look like a supermodel."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I've had bad days. Remember when I was pregnant?"

And well, yeah, she had a point.

Suddenly, Tina moaned.

"Guys, I'm hungry," she said. "What are we having for breakfast?"

"Screw breakfast, let's go get ice cream," Quinn answered.

Rachel pouted. "But ice cream is so unhealthy for you."

"Yeah, only because you always order three cups of it," she said with a snort, and Rachel glared at her.

"Have you ever _tried_ their Rocky Road? It tastes like heaven," she said. Then she sighed and started gathering up her stuff. "And unfortunately, I just remembered I have a lunch date with Blaine. If I want to be ready in time, I'll have to head home now."

Quinn rolled her eyes, and Tina murmured, "Oh my god." Mercedes just sighed wearily.

Rachel gave all of us a wave goodbye. "See you guys on Monday," she said, then she scurried up the stairs and out of the basement.

An awkward silence followed after that, and none of the girls were looking at me. Finally, I let out a sigh, running a hand through my mess of hair.

"You guys don't have to act so weird. I understand that you don't want to upset me or anything, but this is just making me sad," I said.

Mercedes scooted forward, placing an arm around my shoulders.

"We're just worried about you, Boo. Rachel likes to complain how we're always ganging up on her and how rude we are, but Quinn was right. She expects things from her friends that she isn't willing to give in return—like love and respect," she said.

Quinn nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

Tina gave me a look. "Although, you have to admit, she probably hasn't had a lot of friends. Maybe she doesn't realize that treating people like this is wrong."

"Girl, you don't have to have friends to know that treating people like crap is wrong," Mercedes answered.

Quinn let out a sigh. "I am so sick of Rachel Berry, and even sicker of talking about her. Can we just go get breakfast?"

I got to my feet. "Yes. Please," I said.

So the girls quickly finished getting ready as I got dressed, and Quinn drove us to McDonalds for some completely unhealthy breakfast sandwiches.

* * *

_**The Next Day at Dalton**_

_Thank god for gift cards to the mall._

I smiled as I walked into the Warbler practice room, gripping the strap of my new book bag. I'd bought it on Saturday when Mercedes and Tina took me to the mall, after Quinn had gone home—and it was perfect. It was made of leather, and it had so much more room than my last one. I was extremely happy.

Then I looked up and realized that the only other person in the room was Blaine. And my mood immediately went sour.

"Oh… Hi," I said, stepping down the steps toward the couch.

Blaine looked up, his eyes shining.

"Hey there, Kurt," he said tightly, then turned back to the Council table, where he was going over music sheets.

I clasped my hands together, pursing my lips. A long, awkward silence followed, and I was starting to curse myself for thinking it would be a good idea to get here early. I went over to sit down on the couch.

But that was when I remembered that dare Tina and Mercedes gave me last night, about running my hands through his hair.

_Oh my god. Should I do it now? Or should I wait? It'd be awkward if I did it now, there's nowhere to run!_

… _Oh, come on, Kurt! Just do it!_

I took a deep, shaky breath, and walked toward him. After a moment, he looked up, and we just stared at each other for an awkward, tension-filled moment. And then I had my hands in his hair—and Blaine's eyes widened.

"Um—" he started, but I was already back at the couch, wiping the gel off on the cushion.

And then the other started filing in, and Blaine didn't get a chance to say anything before practice started.

It was pretty boring, all the usual stuff—what were we going to sing for Regionals, which uniform should we wear for the competition, Jeff's stupid suggestions. Yet it felt like years before Wes finally dismissed us for the day, because Blaine kept looking at me, all while attempting to fix his rumpled hair.

The rest of the Warblers started filing out of the room, while I stayed behind to make sure I had all my textbooks with me. I didn't even realize someone was standing in front of me, though, until it was too late.

"Kurt," Blaine said, and I snapped my head up to look at him. "Hey. I don't know if you're busy or anything, but I was wondering—"

"It was for a dare," I interrupted, getting to my feet and slinging my book bag over my shoulder. "The tousle. Tina and Mercedes dared me to do it. I'm still mad at you."

He looked down at his feet, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips.

"Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird. But… that's not what I was going to ask you about. I was just wondering if you'd grab a cup of coffee with me."

I narrowed my eyes. "Right now?"

"Right now," he confirmed. "… Please? I really need to talk to you, Kurt."

I folded my arms across my chest, shifting from one foot to the other. Then I let out a weary sigh.

"All right, fine. I guess I'll meet you at the Coffee Bean."

His smile widened into that bright, toothy grin of his, and he gave me a nod.

"Great. Thanks, Kurt." Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me all by myself.

_Well. This should be interesting._

* * *

_**At the Coffee Bean**_

I stepped inside the coffee shop and saw that Blaine was already sitting at our usual table with two cups of coffee. I took a deep breath and walked over.

"Kurt! Hey," Blaine said as I took my seat across from him. He looked shocked for whatever reason. "Drink?"

I took the cup he pushed toward me, taking a sip. "Thanks."

Blaine gave me a smile. And then there was an awkward silence, in which Blaine just stared at his coffee cup and I picked at my fingernail. Then Blaine looked back up.

"So, uh, how have you been?" he asked.

_Terrible._

"Great," I answered. "You?"

"Um, yeah. I'm great, too," Blaine said.

Another silence. Except this time, I wasn't going to wait around for more awkward chit-chat.

"Look, can you just tell me why I'm here? I'd prefer not to waste any more time," I said, leaning back and folding my arms across my chest.

He shifted in his chair a bit.

"I just… wanted to talk, see how you've been. I really do miss hanging out with you, Kurt."

I sighed. "Obviously not enough to stop seeing Rachel."

His face fell a little.

"Okay, I guess _that's_ why we're here," he said, tightening his grip on his coffee cup. "What is your problem with Rachel? I've been thinking about it so much over these past few days, and yeah, she's kind of annoying sometimes, but she's a nice girl. So why do you dislike her so much?"

"I don't _dislike_ her _per se._ I just… I don't like you and Rachel together. Let's just leave it at that," I said with a shrug.

"Kurt, I can't just leave it at that. What's wrong with Rachel and me?" he asked, looking at me with confusion.

I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to think of the right words to say.

"It's not you and Rachel _specifically_, it's just... Look, Blaine, it doesn't matter to me whether you're gay or straight or maybe even bi. I can't change who you are, and I'll still be your friend either way. But you're with Rachel right now, and… it's just too painful for me to stick by you when you're searching for the answer. I know that makes me sound horrible, but I can't do it," I said sadly.

Blaine narrowed his eyes, even more confused than before. "What?"

_Oh my god, you're such an idiot. Do I really have to spell it out for you? Do I need to shout, "I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!" at the top of my lungs?_

"I'll tell you what. Why don't you give me a call when you think you've figured out what I'm trying to say?" I said, then I grabbed my coffee and stood up, walking away.

I got halfway across the parking lot outside before Blaine caught up to me.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "Kurt, stop! Please, just talk to me!"

I rolled my eyes, turning to look at him. "I think we're done talking. This is on you now."

He let out a huff, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"God, what the hell does _that_ mean?" he said. "We're supposed to be friends, Kurt! I don't know _why_ you can't just sit down and explain this to me, but I'm sick of this, it's ridiculous! We are not leaving here until we've talked this through!" he shouted, and he grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

Anger flooded all of my senses, and I shrugged his hand off as harshly as I could.

"Don't you touch me," I snarled.

Blaine immediately backed off. "I… sorry. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," he said, but I wasn't in the mood to hear his apologies.

"I'll see you at school," I muttered, and I walked away, getting into my car.

When I drove away, Blaine was still in the middle of the parking lot, a confused and miserable look on his face.

* * *

_**The Next Day**_

The next day at Warblers practice, Blaine decided to try out another potential song for Regionals.

But of course, he was actually just being a jackass.

"_I wake up every evening with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place. And you're still probably working at a nine to five pace. I wonder how bad that tastes."_

Blaine smirked and glided over to me, pointing and bouncing with the beat. The Warblers started getting into it, circling up around him.

"_When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well. Then he's a fool, you're just as well, hope it gives you hell."_

And then he stopped dancing and just stood there, belting out the next part with so much emotion.

"_Now you'll never see what you've done to me. You can take back your memories, they're no good to me. And here's all your lies, you can look me in the eyes with that sad, sad look that you wear so well."_

Everyone clapped as David joined Blaine in the middle, showing off his dancing skills. I pursed my lips and shook my head, looking off the side.

Except then I felt Blaine pulling me up to my feet, and then I was a part of the circle. I looked around embarrassedly, stiffening a little as I begrudgingly bounced along with the beat.

"_When you hear this song and sing along and never tell. Then you're the fool, I'm just as well, hope it gives you hell. When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell. You can sing along, I hope that it puts you through hell."_

As that last note died away, the Warblers started to clap again, applauding Blaine.

"Man, you rocked that!" Trent said, and Blaine gave him a smile.

"Yes. I think we should definitely consider that number for Regionals," Wes said, sitting back down at the Council table.

Then he listed off our potential songs for Regionals and dismissed us, and I quickly grabbed my bag, pushing ahead of everyone so that I wouldn't run into Blaine. As I winded through the halls, though, trying to get outside, I realized someone else had followed me. Two someone elses—Nick and Jeff.

"So, we were just wondering what the hell is going on between you and Blaine," Nick said, looking over at me with an amused expression.

I narrowed my eyes. "Nothing is going on between us. We're… perfectly fine," I lied.

Nick just laughed, though.

"Well, see, we already asked Blaine about it, and he said the exact same thing. But you two have obviously been fighting, otherwise what are all these bitchy songs you guys are suggesting for Regionals?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe we just like those songs."

"You think Blaine likes Miley Cyrus?" Jeff asked with a snort.

"Well, considering he's in love with Katy Perry, it's really not that big a surprise," I snapped.

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Okay, yeah, you kinda have a point."

"Thank you. Now, if that's all, I _really_ need to get home," I said coolly, which wasn't technically true, but I didn't feel like talking about this anymore.

I left them behind and went outside, straight toward the parking lot. Once I got in, though, I had to pause for a minute. I just kept thinking of those lines that Blaine directed at me.

"_Now you'll never see what you've done to me."_

_Did he actually mean that? If so, what have I done to him? Has he finally realized how I feel, or is our friendship over? I mean, I _have_ been a bit of an ass these past few days… But he deserved it!_

_God, I'm just being irrational. I mean, those are the lyrics to the song! Why would he mean anything by it? Unless…_

_Oh, good god, I'm going crazy._

* * *

**A/N:** Oh my god, I just realized I've been calling the Lima Bean the Coffee Bean. _Why?! Why did I do this?! I'm so disappointed in myself!_

Well. Whatever. I don't feel like going back and changing it, so y'all are gonna have to deal with it being the Coffee Bean now. Lol, I'm such a failure…

By the way, I don't normally like to self-promote, but I'm gonna do it anyway. If you like this story, please _please_ check out my other Klaine story, _Born to Die._ It's much darker than this one since it's a Hunger Games AU, but if you like drama, it's a good story to read. It's only got two chapters right now, but still; if you have time, check it out! :)


	5. An Unexpected Friend

**A/N: **I don't own the song "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift.

* * *

_**Chapter Five… An Unexpected Friend**_

When I finally got back to Lima, I decided to head to McKinley—I knew Glee Club practice was over, but maybe Mr. Schue was still there. I just wanted to see the school, just be around something _familiar,_ because all Dalton reminded me of is Blaine, and well… I didn't even want to _think_ about him at that moment.

As I predicted, there were only a few students lagging behind when I pulled into the school parking lot. And I was about to get out of my car and head inside when I saw Karofsky and Azimio walking out the double-doors, talking and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.

_Oh no. Oh my god._

My body tensed up with fear, because _what the hell am I supposed to do?_ As they got closer and closer, though, I finally ducked my head down, hoping against hope that they hadn't recognized my car or God forbid actually _seen_ me.

I waited a few minutes. Nothing happened, so I slowly sat back up. They were gone.

I let out a sigh and got out of the car, quickly heading into the building. There was no one there, just a few teachers going back and forth between the main office and their classrooms, so I was free to roam. Of course, I just ended up outside the choir room.

I pushed the door open

"Hello?" I called.

No answer, so I stepped inside, carefully pulling the door closed behind me.

I started walking around the room, gliding my fingers across the piano keys as memories of Glee practice came flooding back. Even after all these months, this place was still like my home. Here, I'd finally found my friends, I'd finally found love and _acceptance._ And I really missed it.

My head snapped back up when I heard someone walking outside in the hallway. They were getting closer and closer to the choir room, and oh god, what if it was Karofsky? What if he and Azimio _had_ seen me, and they were just waiting around so they could trap me?

I swallowed, squeezing my eyes shut. Karofsky's lips against mine… that will always be one of my most horrible memories. He stole that kiss from me, he took what wasn't his to take—and I know it's stupid, but I had always dreamed of having the perfect first kiss, followed by a wonderful happily-ever-after. Of course, as I grew up, I realized how unlikely that was for me.

But the old fairy tales that my mother always used to read to me kept some small part of my brain hoping and dreaming.

* * *

_**Ten Years Ago**_

"_And, of course, they lived happily ever after," my mother finished, closing the story of Cinderella._

_I clapped my hands together._

_"I liked that story, Mama! I'm glad they found each other in the end," I said with a big, toothy grin._

_Mom smiled back at me and pulled me closer. "Me too, baby. Me too."_

_Then there was a moment of silence as Mom set the book on the coffee table. I looked up at her with curiosity._

"_Mama?" I questioned._

_She stroked my hair. "Yes, baby?"_

"_Will… will _I_ ever have a happily-ever-after?" I asked, my eyes widening with worry._

_She was silent for a moment, watching me with a strange expression on her face. Then she chuckled and planted a kiss on my forehead._

"_I guarantee it, Kurt. True love can hit you at any moment in your life, and once it finds you, it will never really let go. And then, you'll get your happily-ever-after."_

_I smiled again, snuggling closer into her chest. "Like you and Dad?" I asked._

_"Like me and Dad," she confirmed._

_There was another beat of silence. Then I bit my lip and looked down at my lap._

"_Mama? You know how Mr. and Mrs. Turner came to visit a couple days ago?"_

_She started scratching my back soothingly. "Yes, of course, dear."_

"_Well… Mrs. Turner said that thing about one of the other families in the neighborhood. The Farbingers? She said they were disgusting… is it because they're two boys?" I asked._

_Mom let out a weary sigh. "Yes, Kurt. People like Mrs. Turner are a lot less accepting than our family is, because they just don't understand that love between two boys or two girls is perfectly normal. But don't you ever let their opinions sway you, all right? Everyone, no matter who they fall in love with, deserves to be treated with kindness and respect."_

"_So… two boys _can_ have a happily-ever-after?"_

_She pressed her lips together, her eyes soft. "Of course, __sweetie."_

_I grinned again and hopped off her lap, spreading out on the empty spot of the couch. Then I sat up, my eyes shining with excitement._

"_Hey, Mama?" I asked._

"_Yes?" she responded._

"_Can we make cookies?"_

_Mom laughed. "Goodness, Kurt, you have quite the sweet tooth. How about I go preheat the oven while you get the ingredients from the pantry. All right, baby?" she said._

_I gave her a decisive nod and grabbed her hand, leading her into the kitchen._

* * *

Tears slid down my cheeks as I clutched onto the piano for support.

"Uh, Hummel? Is that you?"

I whirled around at the familiar, particularly _female,_ voice, my eyes widening a little when I saw who it was.

"Oh! Santana, god, you scared me," I said, turning away to wipe my tears.

She stepped forward, her cute brown boots _clacking_ against the tile. "Damn, Hummel, I haven't seen you since Rachel's party. How have you been?"

I let out a weird, nervous chuckle. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old, I guess."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Mercedes mentioned something to me about a sleep over last week. How was that?" she asked.

I shrugged and said, "It was fun. Rachel and Quinn got into a fight, but they got over it pretty quickly. Then we watched Chicago and played Truth or Dare until we fell asleep."

She nodded. "Huh. Sounds fun. Sorry I couldn't go, but to be honest with you, that's kind of the reason. There's just too much crazy shit going down between the Glee girls right now, and I don't want to be in the middle of it," she said with a shrug.

"Santana Lopez actually _wants_ to keep away from the drama? I have to admit, I'm impressed," I drawled sarcastically.

Santana just rolled her eyes.

We both fell silent after that, unsure of what to say next; so I took a moment to survey her appearance. It had been fairly cold and rainy recently, so she had her hair down and curled immaculately, a knitted beanie hat covering the top of her head. She was also wearing a white long-sleeved dress with black leggings and, of course, those high-heel brown boots. She actually looked really pretty when she wasn't in her Cheerios uniform—I liked this Santana better.

"So," she said, finally breaking the silence. "I overheard Rachel talking about Blaine. Said they've been going on dates the past week and she really likes him. That's gotta be rough."

I let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, no kidding. But… wait, how did _you_ know it's rough for me?" I asked, looking at her with confusion.

She raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer.

"Hummel, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you are _not_ as subtle as you think you are. Probably the only ones who haven't realized that you're in love with the hobbit are Rachel and Gel-fro himself," she said. Then she went to sit down in the front row of the risers. "Plus, I've got excellent gaydar—I could spot that big dumb crush you used to have on Frankenteen from ten miles away."

I let out a weary sigh, sitting in the chair next to her.

"Great. So it's obvious to everyone _except_ him. That's just fantastic."

Santana laughed, but didn't say anything else. There was another long moment of silence, and I began picking at my nails. Then,

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked, looking over at me.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, looking back at her. "Huh?"

"Seeing the person you love… with someone else," she clarified, and her voice broke on the word 'love.'

This just confused me even more because…

"Wait, aren't you dating Sam?" I asked.

"Yeah, I am. But I think I… Well, actually, I _know_ I'm…" she paused, tears stinging at her eyes, and turned away from me. She let out a puff of air. "Can you keep a secret, Hummel?"

I stared at her for a moment—and for the first time ever, I could see the pain in Santana's eyes, her anger and frustration and _fear._ She was struggling with something, and even though we were never really friends, I couldn't just leave her to deal with her problems alone.

I gave her a soft smile, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I was in the closet for the majority of my life—I think I can keep a secret," I said, and Santana cracked a smile. "Besides. If I ever blabbed, you would just chase me down and viciously rip me apart, so that's a pretty big incentive to keep my mouth shut."

She laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks. Then she took a deep, shaky breath and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Everyone sees me as this calculating bitch. They call me a slut and a whore, they call me easy, simply because I like a good time. And yeah, I _am_ all of those things, I won't deny it. But lately, I… I've realized that a lot of my anger comes from having to hide another part of who I am. I'm in love with someone, Kurt, but I have to keep it a secret, even though it's been eating away at me for months now. I'm in love… with Brittany. And I've been in love with her for a long time."

I sat there with a blank expression on my face, unable to respond. Santana Lopez—who had tortured me for _months_ before coming out of the closet and called me all those horrible names—was in love with _Brittany._

**I just felt so shocked. She was right, everyone in the entire school knew her name—guys wanted to sleep with her, and girls were terrified of her. No one would have suspected **_**this**_** from a girl who had slept with the whole football team.**

We stared at each other for the longest time. I almost felt like laughing and throwing it back in her face, because of the fact that she had bullied me. But after another second, I recognized that this could not have been an easy realization for her to deal with—it wasn't for _me_ when I finally knew. Of course, that didn't excuse her actions, but still, I wasn't about to condemn and curse her for something she had been so scared to admit.

So I reached out and brought her into a hug, and she rested her forehead against my shoulder and tried to keep herself from crying.

"I know I've been mean to you before," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I really am, but anger is the way I cope with everything. I can't help it sometimes, and you… were the easiest target."

I nodded a little. "I get it, Santana. And thanks for apologizing, that actually means a lot to me."

She wrapped an arm around me and pat me on the back. Then she pulled away and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"God, I must look horrible right now," she laughed.

I gave her a smile.

"Do you feel any better?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes. It's like... a huge weight has been lifted from my chest."

"That's how it felt after I first admitted it to Mercedes last year, and when I finally told my dad." Then I got to my feet, offering her my hand. "Now come on. Even though I go to Dalton now, I'm still a New Direction-er at heart—and when we're upset, we sing."

She let me take her by the hand, and we walked over to the piano. I sat down, opening the top and positioning my fingers over the correct keys. I'd learned this song a couple years ago when I was bored, but I could probably still play it.

"Join in whenever you're ready," I said, and then I started playing.

"_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said, 'cause she doesn't get your humor like I do."_

Santana burst out laughing, folding her arms across her chest.

"Seriously, Hummel? We're gonna do _this_ song?" but I just ignored her.

"_I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like. And she'll never know your story like I do._

"_But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain, and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time."_

Santana placed her hand on my shoulder, finally joining in.

"_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you. Been here all along, so why can't you see—you belong with me? You belong with me."_

Santana hopped up on the piano, crossing her legs and swaying with the music.

"_Standing by and waiting at your backdoor. All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, you belong with me._

"_Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry. I know your favorite songs, and you tell me about your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me._

"_Have you ever thought just maybe you belong with me? You belong with me."_

Santana laughed as I finished playing the last note. She gave me a look.

"While that _was_ kind of middle-school, I actually feel a lot better," she said. "Thanks, Kurt."

I gave her a smug grin. "You're welcome, Lopez."

She hopped back off the piano and smacked me in the arm, readjusting her beanie hat. Then she let out a sigh.

"Hey, you wanna get something to eat? Britt and I are supposed to meet Mike, Tina, and Puck over at Breadstix in a little bit. They'd probably like to see you."

I gave her a smile. "That'd be great. I'll meet you guys there."

She nodded, then stared at me as I started plunking out another melody I'd learned a couple weeks ago, from Blaine. It was easy enough, but it was also quite dark. I frowned.

Suddenly, Santana put her hand on my shoulder, and she looked down at me with soft eyes.

"You're… a good person, Kurt. It practically burns me to say something so nice, but it's true. You should remember that," she said.

Then she walked out of the room without another word, leaving me alone and confused.

* * *

_**The Next Morning at Dalton**_

It was so great to see so many members of the Glee club in one place again. Once we got a table, Santana and Brittany kept whispering to each other and giggling, and Mike asked me about Dalton. Tina said Mercedes was out on a date with a guy from her church (**which pissed me off because Mercedes certainly did **_**not**_** mention anything about a date**), and Puck high-fived Mike after he told him a dirty joke. It was fun.

But it also made me realize just how _miserable_ I was at Dalton, without all of my friends.

I let out a sigh, on my way to morning Warbler practice. Goddamn Regionals. Wes insisted we have extra meetings just so we were more prepared.

I pushed the double-doors open and stepped inside, met with the sight of Wes, David, and Blaine already in the room. Wes was sitting in his normal seat at the Council table, and David was leaning against the edge of the table, both of them staring intently at Blaine as he stood on the other side talking.

Then, finally, Wes noticed my presence.

"Oh. Hello, Kurt," he said, a bit stiffly.

I gave them a small wave. "Hi. Uh… what's going on?" I asked, and I walked down the steps, sitting down on the couch.

"Well, actually, we were thinking about having a party this Friday evening," David answered, to which Blaine elbowed him in the ribs. "Ouch! Blaine, what the hell?!"

He pressed his lips together, looking down at his lap and avoiding my gaze. I glared, but Wes quickly continued talking for David before I could say anything.

"It won't be anything too insane. We've already gotten permission from the administration to have it here in the practice room, so we'll probably just bring a stereo, maybe some refreshments. I just think it'd be good for the Warblers to loosen up a little before we really buckle down, you know? Regionals _is_ only a few weeks away," Wes said.

I considered this for a moment.

"Will there be alcohol?" I asked.

Wes and David shared a look.

"No. Again, we're having it here in the school, so any alcohol brought in could get us in some serious trouble," David said.

I nodded. "Well, that's good. In my experience, parties are much better without alcohol. It just makes you act like an idiot," I looked pointedly at Blaine, "and throw up. So yeah, I'm game, as long as we keep it alcohol-free."

Wes clapped his hands together.

"Fantastic! Then it's official—the Warblers are having a party Friday night!" he exclaimed, and David pumped his fist.

But that's when I thought of something, and I asked, "Wait, can I bring some of my friends from McKinley? The New Directions are usually pretty competitive with rival show choirs, but some of them would probably enjoy a good party."

Wes and David looked at each other again, seeming to be communicating telepathically for a minute. Then David looked over at me again.

"Sure. The more, the merrier," he said.

I clasped my hands together. "Great!"

_This certainly should be interesting…_

* * *

**A/N:** Are you guys excited for the Warblers/New Directions party in the next chapter? It's packed full with drama, singing, and idiot teenagers, so that should be fun!

And please, leave a review! I'd love to hear what you guys are thinking of the story so far! :)


	6. Get Sleazy

**A/N:** I don't own any of the Ke$ha songs featured in this chapter or the song "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Just so you guys know. Also, Kurt swears _a lot_ in this chapter, and you will soon find out why. :)

* * *

_**Chapter Six… Get Sleazy**_

I put one last coating of hairspray on my styled hair, then checked my outfit. A navy blue sweater with a white button-down shirt underneath and a tie, plus a pair of tight dark jeans.

I gave myself a wink and stepped out of the car, walking up to the main entrance of Dalton Academy. It was dark inside, but as I got closer to the Warblers practice room, I could hear music booming and people talking. I sighed and pushed the doors open.

"Kurt! _Ohmygod,_ I can't believe you're here!"

I looked to the side to see an obviously drunk Quinn stumbling toward me. I gave her an awkward smile as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, poking me in the chest.

"Wait. Why were you late?" she said, and she got up in my face, narrowing her eyes. "Who were you with?"

**Ah, yes. Quinn is your typical 'angry drunk.'**

I raised an eyebrow. "No one. I had to run back to my house because I forgot my phone." Then I looked around at all the other people dancing and drinking and laughing. "Is _all_ of New Directions here?" I'd only told Mercedes and Tina about the party!

She snorted and punched me in the shoulder. "Yeah. Mercedes said we should all come here as friends, or some shit. I just wanted a night away from my crazy family."

I nodded a little, although I was still confused as to why _all_ of the New Directions had come. Then Quinn punched me in the arm and led me over to Artie and Brittany—Brittany was sitting in Artie's lap, and the two of them were making out.

_How romantic,_ I thought sarcastically.

"Hey! Stop it!" Quinn exclaimed, then she karate chopped their faces apart.

Artie swung his head around to look at her.

"Why? We were having fuuuuun," he complained, though his words were slurred.

**Artie, the 'half-baked drunk.'**

Brittany got up off Artie's lap, giving me a smile.

"Hey there, Kurt. Need a lap dance?" Brittany offered as she started shimmying against me.

**Brittany, the 'stripper drunk.'**

I raised an eyebrow and immediately stepped away from her. "Um, no. No thank y—"

"Hey, it's 'Tik Tok'! Come on, Artie, let's dance!" she exclaimed, and she wheeled him over to the makeshift dance floor (usually where the couches would be).

And… wow, for the first time, I noticed that the Warblers really _had_ pulled out all the stops—there was a small riser stage set up, and David was at the stereo acting as DJ. There were also strobe lights around the room and a buffet table set up with snacks and a big bowl of pink punch.

I pursed my lips.

"_Alcohol-free" my ass…_

I let out an exasperated sigh and walked over to the buffet table, ladling out a cup of punch. At least I could get some food and drink out of this drunken disaster of a party.

"Blaine! You come back here this _instant!"_ Rachel shrieked from somewhere behind me.

**Rachel, the 'needy drunk.'**

I turned around, just as someone slammed into me. My punch sloshed out of the cup, drenching my hand and pooling on the floor.

I huffed in anger.

"What the hell, Blaine?" I snapped.

Except that's when I got a good look at him, and I kind of died. Because he was wearing dark blue jeans that clung to his hips, and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And none of the buttons were done up. I could _see_ his chest.

_Oh my god…_

"Kurt," he slurred out, and he placed two fingers against my chest, working his way up toward my neck. "Kurtsy, Wurtsy, Burtsy…"

**Blaine, the 'stupid drunk.' Who always makes an idiot out of himself.**

My eyebrows shot up, literally as high as they could go, as I stared at him in confusion.

"Um…" I said, but luckily, that's when Rachel made it to us.

"Blaine Anderson, you are supposed to be dancing with me," she whined, and she grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back toward the dance floor.

"Miss you, Wurtsy!" he exclaimed in mock-anguish, but I just rolled my eyes.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hand off, getting some more punch. As I was drinking, though, another person stumbled up to me.

"What's up, man?!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing me by the shoulders. Then his expression turned serious, and he pointed a finger at me. "Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. Listen. Kurt, are you listening?"

I raised an eyebrow, giving him an awkward nod.

"Okay," he said, then he leaned in close, looking me straight in the eye. "I like Captain America. He's a cool dude."

**Sam, the 'random drunk.'**

I narrowed my eyes. "Um, all righty then. I'm just gonna… get some more punch," I said, and then I walked away.

_What the hell is going on? Why are they _all_ drunk, and where is the alcohol coming from?_

I downed the rest of my punch cup, tossing it away in the trash in the corner. And that's when it hit me.

_Oh hell._

_Someone spiked the goddamn punch._

I let out a long-suffering sigh, scrubbing my hands across my face. Then someone came up behind me.

"Let's dance, hot stuff."

I turned around to see Puck smiling alluringly at me, waggling his eyebrows.

**Puck, the 'flirt-with-anything-in-sight drunk.'**

"Oh, shut up," I mumbled, and I walked back to the buffet table.

For a moment, I just stood there awkwardly, snacking on a pretzel. I looked out at everyone else, dancing and singing and having a good time. Then I spotted Finn over by the double-doors, drinking from his cup and swaying with the music. I walked over.

"Hey, Finn. How are you?" I asked, sipping at my punch.

It took him a few seconds to realize that I was talking to him, but he finally looked up.

"Oh. Kurt! S'up little bro?" he exclaimed cheerily, and he pulled me into a bear hug, ruffling up my hair.

**Finn, the 'stupidly happy drunk.'**

I huffed in frustration and pushed him off me, quickly fixing my hair.

"God, please tell me _you_ aren't drunk, too," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, dude? Of course I'm not drunk! I'm the _dresignated diver_," he said, giving me a look that was probably supposed to suggest I was an idiot.

I pursed my lips. "Whatever you say, Dresignated Diver," then I walked away.

I turned toward the double-doors, debating whether or not I should just bail. There was really no reason to stay; as I said before, the whole party had already turned into a disaster, what with underage kids drinking alcohol inside on school grounds. If we didn't get caught, we'd be so incredibly lucky.

But on the other hand, if you can't beat them…

_Join them,_ I thought, and I walked back over to the buffet table, grabbing another cup of punch and guzzling it down.

And with that, my coherent mind started slipping away with each beat of the booming music. I never strayed far from the buffet table, and no one came to talk to me, but I didn't mind. I was perfectly content.

And then Sam came over to get some punch.

"Wait. Kurt, when did you get here?" he asked, pointing and looking at me as if I had just grown two heads.

**And so we come to me. The 'curses-like-a-sailor drunk.'**

"Hey there, bitchface! What the hell are you talking about, I've been here the whole time!"

Sam pursed his lips. "Oh… I didn't know that," he muttered. "I just want some cheese."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Well… that's nice. Bye!" I exclaimed, and then I made my way over to Brittany.

She was dancing in front of a group of Warblers, twirling her jacket and grinding up and down.

"Oh my _god,_ Brittany. What the hell are you doing, you have a _boyfriend,"_ I groaned, and I grabbed her by the arm, dragging her away.

"Oh, come on, Kurtsy! I just like putting on a good show is all!" she exclaimed, then tripped over her own feet.

I burst out laughing at that.

"Oh god, Britt, you are so damn _funny."_

She gave me a drunken half-smile and straightened back up, placing her arms on my shoulders and bouncing around to the music. Then Sam danced his way over to us.

"Whoa, Kurt, when- when did you get here?"

I rolled my eyes again.

"Oh my god, _Sam_, I already told you. I've been here this whole goddamn time! Don't you remember our last encounter, like, a minute ago?" I asked.

He paused. "Uh. No…?"

**Idiot.**

"All right, well, I'm gonna go back to dancing with Brittany, then," I said, and I turned back around.

But alas, she was long gone.

"What the hell does it take to keep that damn girl from running away?" I muttered.

Then I saw Santana standing in the corner of the room, and I walked over to her. She looked extremely disheveled with mussed hair and the sleeve of her shirt sliding off her shoulder, and for whatever reason, she was also wearing a fedora.

"Girl, what in the hell is your ass doing all the way over here?" I asked, leaning against the wall for support.

Her bottom lip started to quiver, and suddenly, she burst out into tears.

"I _would_ be with Britt, but she's over there making out with Artie!" she cried, vaguely gesturing toward the opposite wall.

**Oh, and Santana, the 'sad-girl drunk,' in case it wasn't obvious.**

"Damn, girl, you have absolutely _no_ confidence." I placed my arm on her shoulder, giving her a kind of serious look. "Listen. I want you to go over there and tell her how you feel. You've got to go after what you want. Okay? And go," I said, then gave her a push.

"You're a hypocrite, you… you…" her attempt at an insult trailed away, though, as she dragged herself across the room.

"Bitch, I'm surprised you even remember what that word _means _with how intoxicated you are," I mumbled, and I walked back to the dance floor.

'Sleazy' by Ke$ha was playing, and everyone started freaking out.

_What, is this like a Ke$ha-themed party?_

I shook my head, grabbing a pretzel off the buffet table and shoving it in my mouth.

Except that's when I saw Blaine and Rachel in the middle of the dance floor. They were dancing, and Rachel rolled against him—and then they were _grinding._

I spit the pretzel out of my mouth in shock. "Ugh, oh my god!" I exclaimed, shielding my eyes from the horrible sight. I mean, seriously, who would want to see _that?_

I turned away from them, letting out a low growl.

_Fine. Ke$ha wants sleazy?_

_Then I'll give her sleazy._

I shoved the bowl of pretzels off the table and marched toward the makeshift stage, straight up to David and the stereo.

"I want to sing a song," I demanded, leaning over and snatching Santana's fedora right off her head as she passed by.

David looked up, and it occurred to me that he was probably the only one in the room who was actually sober.

"Really? All right, sure. What do you want?" he asked, scrolling through his iTunes playlist on his laptop.

I leaned in and told him my song choice. He nodded, and I walked over to the microphone that they (**conveniently**) had set up.

"Who wants to hear me sing?" I exclaimed, and practically everyone in the room began clapping and cheering.

"Go, Kurtsy!"

"You da man, little bro!"

"Yeah, hot stuff!"

"That is my _best_ friend, man."

Grinning stupidly, I said, "All righty, then!"

I turned around and loosened my tie a little, placing the fedora on top of my head. And then I spun around and sang the first verse of my song into the microphone, smirking down at everyone.

"_I'm too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love. Love's going to leave me."_

The music started playing, and everyone burst into wild screaming.

"_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt. So sexy it hurts."_

It was a little hard to focus on anything with the strobe lights still going, but once I locked eyes with Blaine, I didn't look away. I started shimmying and thrusting my hips around, and I could see his eyes widen in shock. I had his full attention, and I wasn't planning on wasting it.

"_I'm a model, you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk. Yeah, on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah, I do my little turn on the catwalk."_

Later on, I would feel incredibly embarrassed for acting like a stripper up there, just to distract Blaine; but in the moment, when Rachel noticed that he'd stopped paying attention to her because he was so busy ogling me, I figured it was worth it. With a smirk, I then executed the perfect body roll, causing another round of cheers from the crowd.

"_'Cause I'm a model, you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk. Yeah, on the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk, yeah, I shake my little tush on the catwalk."_

I dropped into a crouch, and then stood back up incredibly slowly, reveling in the way Blaine's jaw dropped.

"_And I'm too sexy for this song."_

With that, I tossed the microphone stand to the side, putting on my best Elvis impersonation as I said, "Thank you, thank you very much, bitches."

The whole crowd clapped for me, and as I stumbled away from the stage, people pat me on the arm and drunkenly exclaimed how awesome my performance was. Then someone wrapped their arm around my shoulders and leaned in close.

"We should get together sometime, babe," Puck slurred with a grin.

I scoffed. "Bitch, you couldn't afford this," I retorted, gesturing to myself. Then I pushed him away.

He stumbled back into the crowd, so I walked over to the buffet table, getting another glass of punch. Except then I saw Blaine leaning against the wall next to the double-doors, staring down at the floor with a sad look in his eyes—and despite my alcohol-clouded mind, I still managed to feel a pang of guilt. What was wrong with him? Was it something I could help with?

No. No, I had to stay away. If I went over there, I'd probably end up saying something I'd regret, and I just couldn't do that. Not at that moment.

**Whenever I'm drunk, it's like I lose total control of the things that come out of my mouth (sometimes **_**literally**_**). There's just this voice in my head telling me that the idiotic and foolish thing I'm about to do is a really great idea, and…well, then I make a fool of myself.**

**So yes, it was better to stay away.**

I set my cup down and walked toward the dance floor, joining Quinn, Brittany, and Santana as they danced in their little group. I just desperately needed a distraction from Blaine.

* * *

**A/N:** I tried to come up with a fun and idiotic type of drunk for Kurt, so I hope you guys enjoyed him cursing!

Next is Chapter 7, which means more drama, and we finally get Kurt and Blaine talking again! Whether or not that is necessarily a _good_ thing... well, you'll just have to wait!


	7. We Are Who We Are

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter took so long, but I got distracted by real life crap. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh, and I'm not even sorry for these Ke$ha-themed titles; and I don't own any of her songs featured in this chapter.

* * *

_**Chapter Seven… We Are Who We Are**_

**Have you ever been so drunk that nothing makes sense anymore? And you're not even sure how to say your own name? Well, multiply that by about fifty and you get how hammered I was.**

"Wait! Where is Ke$ha? I can _hear_ her, but I can't _see_ her… What the hell is going on?!" I shouted, scanning the room for any sign of her.

Everyone ignored my drunken rambling in the middles of the dance floor, though, so I stormed over to Artie and plopped myself down on his lap.

"Heeey there, Kurtsie," he slurred, giving me a lopsided grin.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Artie, what in the hell is wrong with me? Why doesn't that stupid jackass like me?" I huffed.

Artie placed a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Mmm… maybe because you're calling the guy a jackass?" he said, then he burst out laughing at his own stupid joke.

I rolled my eyes, letting the upper-half of my body hang off the side of his wheelchair.

"I'm talking about Blaine, you jerk. And I probably wouldn't be so mad at him if it wasn't goddamn _Rachel_ he's dating! I mean, what the hell does he see in her?"

"How 'm I supposed to know?" he asked.

I pumped my fist in the air. "Exactly! She's awful, like, _all_ the time!" I shouted.

Then I sighed and rolled off his lap, landing in a heap on the floor. I groaned in pain, and Artie picked up his leg to kick at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

I pushed myself onto all fours, rubbing my forehead.

"Yeah. I… I'm fine," I mumbled, getting back to my feet.

"Where ya going?" Artie asked, but I ignored him, turning toward the dance floor.

Quinn and Finn were dancing with each other, and Brittany had gone back to stripping for a group of Warblers. Off in the corner, Puck could be seen hitting on a potted tree, while Sam shouted nonsense at them. And Blaine…

He was in the middle of dance floor, slow-dancing to Ke$ha's 'We R Who We R' with Rachel.

I scrubbed a hand across my face. The music booming in my ears, the people moving all around me, the lights that were starting to hurt my eyes… it was too overwhelming.

Not knowing what else to do, I maneuvered my way over to the double-doors, slipping out into the darkened hallway. I just needed to get away for a couple minutes, and get some air. I ran my hands through my hair and began walking down the lavish Dalton hallway.

I must have been closer to the wall than I thought, though, because then I rammed my knee into a table.

"God _dammit!"_ I hissed, and I clutched it in pain.

Frustrated and upset, I decided I needed to sit down. So I limped over to the first door I came to, and ended up inside a study room.

To my surprise, this room was a lot more ornate than the other rooms in Dalton, if that was even possible. There was a huge bay window right across from the door, and a pool of moonlight was spilling in, lighting up the entire room. Decorative banners and incredibly fancy paintings lined the walls, and the couches were made with velvet cushions.

Slowly, I walked around, taking in the quiet beauty of the room. And then I laid eyes on a painting of the beach. It was easy to see the brushwork with so many light colors mixing together, but it just seemed so… _real._ The light blue waves hit the white sand with force, the sun shined high in the sky, and seagulls were flocking above the great mass of sea.

It reminded me of the only time I had ever been to the beach, back when my mom was still alive…

* * *

_**Nine Years Ago**_

"_Kurt, sweetie, wait up!" my mother yelled, dragging our beach bags behind her._

_Dad picked one of them up, and Mom smiled, kissing him on the cheek. I skipped back over to them, giggling like a maniac._

"_Sorry, Mama!" I exclaimed. "I just can't believe we're here! I finally get to see the beach!"_

"_Well, Daddy and I wanted to do something special for your eighth birthday," she said. "But don't wander too far away, I don't want you to get lost."_

_I nodded, and a few minutes later, we reached the sandy beach._

"_Oh my goodness!" I screeched, and I ran ahead again, chasing a seagull that was flying overhead._

_Dad laughed as Mom tried to protest, placing a hand over her face in frustration._

"_Hey, come on, bud," Dad called to me, and he gestured toward a rather sunny spot on the sand. "How about we set up the umbrellas here?"_

_I smiled and grabbed the huge beach umbrella he was carrying, trying to open it up and stick it in the sand. When I couldn't do it, though, Dad took it and opened it up, jamming the rod deep into the sand. Mom got our towels and spread them out underneath._

"_Okay, okay, okay! Let's go swimming now!" I exclaimed, and I grabbed my mother's hand, pulling her toward the water._

"_Are you sure you're ready, baby?" she asked._

"_It's just _water,_ Mama," I laughed._

_But as we approached the water, I started to get nervous. What if the big blue waves took me away from my parents? What would happen to me?_

_I squeezed her hand, and the two of us stepped into the water. The warm water flowed up over my feet, then quickly ebbed away, and I realized it was the force of the small waves the water was creating. It continued to do that over and over and over, never wavering._

"_So? What do you think?" Mom asked._

_I smiled up at her and exclaimed, "It's warm!"_

_She laughed, and we walked in further. By this point, the water was up to my waist._

_She ruffled my hair with her other hand. "Do you want to go back to Daddy?"_

"_I'm fine," I insisted._

"_All right. But I think this is far enough. Let's not go any further, okay, Kurt?" she said. "We can do that when you're older."_

_I nodded absentmindedly, too distracted by the water to hear what she was saying. I started kicking and splashing, swimming in circles around my mother._

_And then I got splashed in the face, and when I looked up, Mom was smiling deviously._

"_Hey! No fair!" I exclaimed haughtily, and I splashed her back._

_She laughed and splashed me again, and we ended up having one of our Splash Wars—which almost always happened when we were in water._

_But then, before I even knew what was happening, a huge wave crashed into me, and I almost got carried away. Luckily, though, Mom grabbed onto my hand and pulled me back to her._

"_Oh my god, Kurt, are you all right? Are you hurt?!" she asked frantically, placing her hands against my face and looking into my eyes._

_I spit salty water out of my mouth, and she pat me on the back, quickly pulling me up into her arms._

"_I'm okay. But don't let the ocean kidnap me, Mama. I don't want to live underwater," I mumbled into her shoulder, and she squeezed me as she let out a strained laugh._

"_I promise, I will never let the ocean kidnap you, baby. I'm here to protect you, and I always will be," she said reassuringly, walking us back to shore. "Don't worry, I've got you."_

_I smiled as she set me down next to Dad._

"_Are you guys okay?" he asked, ruffling up my wet hair._

_Mom let out a sigh of exhaustion, sitting down next to him._

"_The ocean tried to kidnap him," she said._

_My dad wrapped an arm around me, then directed a glare toward the ocean._

"_That damn ocean," he said, shaking his fist at it._

_My mom and I laughed, and Dad gave me a hug. They continued trying to cheer me up, and when I felt okay again, Dad helped us build a sandcastle._

* * *

It was the best birthday I'd ever had.

And only two months later, my mother was hit by a truck and lost control of her car, flying off the side of the road. She died instantly.

I stood in front of the painting, tears streaming down my cheeks. My mother promised to protect me, she told me not to worry… and now she was gone. She'd never see me graduate, she'd never see me get married or have kids. I didn't even get to come out to her, although I'm positive she knew. She was going to miss so much of my life.

And I hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

That's when I felt a hand on my shoulder, though, and I jumped. I whirled around to see Blaine standing there, his hair ruffled and a worried look in his eyes.

"I'm… sorry," he said, shaking his head a little. "But I saw you leave the room."

I raised an eyebrow. "So that means you have to follow me? God, can't I have any damn privacy around here?"

"Uh… sorry, again," he said stupidly.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and I looked down at my feet. Then Blaine pulled his shirt (which was still unbuttoned and showing off his chest) closed, wrapping his arms around himself.

"You were crying when I walked in," he pointed out. "Why?"

I pursed my lips.

"What the hell do _you_ care?" I spat, folding my arms across my chest. "I didn't want you here in the first place, so what gives you the right to ask? We're not friends. Or, are you confused about that, too?"

His mouth fell open, and he stepped forward. "Look, Kurt, I—"

"You know what, Blaine? Just shut up for one goddamn second, all right?"

He fell silent.

"You are _always_ up in my business, you know that? From the first day we met, you've been invading my privacy! Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn't _want_ to tell you why I was so afraid of Karofsky? That maybe I didn't _want_ to tell you how my mom died? That maybe I didn't _want_ to tell you about the time I was a goddamned cheerleader? I hate all of your stupid questions, Blaine, and we're not friends anymore, so just _stop!"_

I fell silent after that, and I just stood there, my fists clenched at my sides. Blaine stuttered for a moment, trying to find a response, but couldn't. I could tell he was offended by what I had said, but I wasn't about to take it back.

Finally, Blaine muttered, "Kurt… _please_," and put his hand on my shoulder again.

I immediately knocked his arm away.

"Don't touch me, damn it!" I yelled.

Blaine took a step back, holding his hands up placatingly. We both fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

Except then my stomach started churning violently, and I knew that things were about to get ugly.

"I- I don't feel well," I mumbled.

And just like that, I vomited up every single cup of punch I'd had that night—horrible, disgusting vomit. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it was all over Blaine's chest. Poor, unsuspecting Blaine…

I saw his eyes widen, just before I collapsed to the floor.

"Oh god," I murmured, and then I was out like a light.

* * *

When I woke up again, it practically took all of my strength to force my eyes open, and the first thing I was really aware of was the rushing sound of water coming from somewhere nearby. The second thing was that it felt like a jackhammer was being drilled into my head.

I groaned and rolled over onto my side, trying to remember what had happened. But then I noticed where I was. A neat dorm room with lots of pictures and awards hung up on the walls. The bed adorned with silky pillows and sheets. A Dalton uniform hanging on a hook near the closet.

_Blaine's dorm room,_ I remembered. _Oh… right. I threw up all over him, didn't I?_

I propped myself up on my elbows, and suddenly, the world started spinning around me.

"Oh god…" I moaned, rubbing at my temples. "Stupid bastard… Why'd you have to take me back to your goddamn dorm room? I need water and pills and my own bed back at home. I hate you, Blaine Anderson."

"Well, that's mean," a teasing voice called from the bathroom doorway.

I turned my head to look over at him, and almost died.

Blaine was standing there, soaking wet, in nothing but a damn_ towel._

_I hate you _so_ much…_

Quickly, I forced myself to meet his eyes again. "Um… it- it was _meant_ to be mean. You bastard."

He rolled his eyes and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a set of pajamas. I let out a sigh and sat up in the bed.

Then Blaine walked back over to the bathroom door.

"Oh, and Kurt," he turned back around with a teasing smirk on his face, "My eyes? Are up here," he said, pointing to his face.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and I glared at him as he laughed and stepped back into the bathroom. A moment later, and I grabbed one of his pillows and chucked it at the door, making it bounce off with a soft thud. Blaine chuckled from inside.

I placed my head in my hands. Then Blaine came back out again, this time fully dressed in his navy blue pajamas.

_Thank god._

He laughed again as I looked him over.

"You know, your hair is messy," he said, and when I automatically reached up to fix it, he smiled and went to sit next to me on the bed.

He just stared at me for a few moments.

I raised an eyebrow. "Um… what is it?" I asked awkwardly.

Blaine shrugged. "I just like looking at you. You're actually pretty adorable, Kurtsy."

"You think I don't know that?" I retorted. Then, "Blaine, how drunk _are_ you?"

He shrugged again. "I don't have to be extremely drunk to appreciate a cute boy. But… I've gotta admit, I'm still pretty wasted right now."

I nodded, and ran a hand through my tangled hair. Then Blaine gave me a look.

"So… are you feeling any better?" he asked.

I sighed and answered, "Yeah, I guess. I definitely don't feel as disoriented as before, and I don't feel sick," Blaine looked relieved at that, "but I don't think I'm completely sober right now. So… sorry if I make an idiot out of myself."

Blaine laughed. "You're not making an idiot out of yourself. I'm the one who spent most of the night with my shirt undone, who got thrown up on, and who ditched the Warbler party to drag an unconscious boy up to my dorm room. If you're an idiot, then I'm a moron."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can't argue with that."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I think we both know I'm the stupid one when I'm drunk," he said.

I nodded and wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling chilly. Blaine grabbed his comforter and placed it around my shoulders.

Then, "Kurtsy?"

I looked back up at him. "Yeah?"

"Can… can I ask you something?"

I looked at him with curiosity. "I suppose."

He leaned back against his pillows with a sigh, folding his arms across his chest.

"What is it about me and Rachel that bothers you so much?" he questioned.

I curled up into a ball, wrapping myself up in the warmth of the blanket. I wished I could just disappear from the room, sink through the floor and leave Blaine all alone. But of course, that didn't happen.

"I… I don't know," I lied, my words muffled underneath the comforter. "I just know that the two of you together… it bugs the hell out of me. I hate that I feel that way, but I do."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't want this to get in the way of our friendship, Kurt. I really don't," he said. "But I feel like I'm the only one who is really trying to salvage this. You… seem to have completely given up on me, simply because I'm dating a girl you don't like."

I groaned and wrapped my arms tighter around myself.

**He was right, I had absolutely no right to be such an asshole about his relationship. If I had been the greatest best friend in the entire world, I'd have just swallowed my feelings and supported him no matter what; weirdly enough, if he had chosen to be with some other guy, I probably would have been able to support that choice (although I definitely wouldn't be **_**happy**_** about it). But no—because, of **_**all**_** the people he could explore his sexuality with, Blaine chose Rachel. **_**Rachel.**_** I mean, yes, she is not always as horrible as other people make her out to be, but… well, let's just say her bad qualities far outweigh her good qualities most of the time.**

I shook my head a little, rubbing at my throbbing forehead. "God, I can't- I can't talk about this right now. I am in far too much pain."

Blaine nodded. "Well… All right. I understand," he said, then he gave me a soft look. "But you know… we're gonna have to talk about this _sometime._ Ideally when we're both sober."

I nodded, mostly because I just wanted him to shut up.

"I promise," I said. "We will talk about this at some point in the future, and I'll tell you everything I'm feeling, and you can tell me everything you're feeling. Just _please_ stop talking right now. I have a killer headache."

He smiled and sat up, placing a warm, firm hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, and he started rubbing circles into my neck, alleviating some of the tension and pain. I immediately sighed and relaxed into his touch.

And then I realized how close we were.

I swallowed and accidentally let the comforter slip from my shoulders. We stared at each other for the longest time.

_You know what? Screw it. We're alone, we're drunk. What the hell's stopping me?_

"Blaine… you remember how you called me cute and adorable?" I mumbled, and he nodded. I bit my lip, letting my eyes roam across his face, his neck, his chest. "Well, I think you… you're kind of beautiful."

And then I touched his cheek, and Blaine's hands stopped its movements. His eyes widened a little, and I could tell he wasn't expecting this.

"Kurt, I…" he whispered doubtfully.

But that's when my headache returned, and it felt about a thousand times worse than before. I groaned and moved away, curling up on my side.

"Blaine, I gotta tell you something," I said, because I had to, or else I'd probably never work up the courage to say any of this ever again! "I think I… I… "

And then I blacked out again.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter is so weird. Kurt and Blaine are so undecided—one minute they're angry, and the next they're calling each other 'beautiful' and 'cute' lol. I don't know, but at least they're finally starting to get somewhere!

Next chapter is a cliffhanger! Be prepared (unless you've already read the first version of this; in that case, you probably already know what's going to happen)!


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